100 Books Like Buddhism Without Beliefs

Hadot’s book was a rare confirmation for me of an alternate approach to ancient philosophy. My earlier work on ancient sceptics had led me to appreciate the centrality of personal therapy aimed towards peace of mind. Hadot persuasively demonstrates that this was, in fact, the aim of virtually all ancient Greek philosophy.

Modern philosophers have presumed that the ancients, like themselves, are engaged in an objective search for truth. Hadot shows that philosophers from Plato and Aristotle, Epicureans and Stoics, to Plotinus and St. Augustine, focused not on truth but on easing pain and suffering through a variety of therapeutic strategies, including self-control through meditative practices.

The result is an entirely new and revolutionary understanding of ancient philosophy.

This, the biography of a 14th-century Tibetan Buddhist master, might seem out of place for a list that is about modern-day adaptations of ancient philosophies. However, I wanted to include it as a reminder that while philosophical reform can be all well and good, sometimes the masters of yesteryear are those from whom we still have the most to learn.

I find this book magical: its lucid descriptions of the rich intellectual and spiritual tradition of 14th-century Tibetan culture, its monastic curriculum and debates, and the evident commitment to enlightenment among its many protagonists, all of these things have much to teach us moderns who might just have a tendency to get a little cute when we think that we know best.  

Brené Brown reframes vulnerability as a source of strength rather than weakness.

Daring Greatly teaches that courage lives in the willingness to show up when the outcome is uncertain and when fear is present. The book encourages leaders to choose authenticity over perfection and presence over performance.

Brown’s work has been foundational in my understanding of how to create deeper connections and stronger leadership. When we bring honesty, empathy, and humanity into our work, we inspire others to do the same.

This book is a reminder that real confidence is built through vulnerability and that success expands when you are willing to be seen fully.

The first book I ever read by Sharon Salzberg was her memoir, Faith. And then, I had the opportunity to study with her at Tibet House in New York City for several years. One of the things that I love so much about Sharon as a teacher is how simple, practical, and approachable she makes meditation. There’s nothing complicated or intimidating in her instruction—whether you’re a beginner or an advanced practitioner, you always feel like you’re practicing with a good friend who is super smart, exceptionally generous, and consistently humble. All of those qualities are immediately accessible and apparent in her book Real Happiness.

She has created a 28-day program that demystifies meditation so you can easily integrate it into your daily activities. And the book also includes guided meditations led by Sharon herself to eliminate any possible resistance to sitting still and breathing. You literally just have… show more.

A surprisingly funny and poignant memoir, What I Thought I Knew does at least two things brilliantly—gives us a window into Alice Eve Cohen’s hopes and fears of motherhood and simultaneously gives us a window into the broken medical system here in the U.S. At 44, after a series of medical tests, Cohen finds herself not sick, but pregnant. What unfolds from there veers from an absurd comedy to a horrific nightmare, all while crashing headlong into hers and everyone else’s expectations, assumptions, and morality. This book had me laughing out loud and sobbing simultaneously. It moved me at a core level to examine my own limiting beliefs and the things I thought I could count on. What I soon discovered was that nothing was certain and everything was up for grabs—regardless of what I had previously believed.

DeMello was a Jesuit priest and a psychologist.

His workshops were legendary and had a deep impact on thousands. His books have touched millions. He was eclectic and open-minded and readily acknowledged the power of spiritual practices from traditions outside the Church.

For this, his books were removed from Catholic bookstores and a warning issued that his writings could mislead young minds. He was passionate about truth and cavalier about dogma.

McEvilley’s comprehensive book was an eye-opener for me. He breaks new ground by exploring in great detail the fascinating diffusion of ideas between ancient Greece and ancient India, a topic ignored by most scholars.

He demolishes “Orientalist” presumptions of Western superiority over Eastern cultures, showing how Indian ideas like reincarnation and a holistic conception of the universe were adapted early on by Greek thinkers, while Greek logic and dialectical argumentation were absorbed by the Indians.

He convincingly demonstrates, in his words, that “every mystical element in Indian thought can be found in Greek thought too, and every rational element in Greek thought can be found in Indian.” This view corrects the historical record and strongly reinforces the notion of a cultural parity between East and West.

McMahon’s book was a real opener for me as a practising Buddhist in my early 20s.

I’d always naturally assumed that the Buddhism I practised was essentially the same as the Buddhism of any other time and place. McMahon’s penetrating analysis of the differences between ancient and ‘Western’ Buddhism shattered that illusion, showing me that the Buddhism I followed was mainly the product of Buddhism’s encounter with the modern, Western world.

I deeply valued the doors McMahon opened for me: suddenly, I could take a much larger view of the Buddhist tradition, and I also came to realize how the various manifestations of philosophies and religions are interesting not just for what they teach but also because of what they can reveal about the societies that practise them.

I was really intrigued to learn that Albert Ellis, who created Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), actually cited Stoics like Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius as some of his main inspirations.

To my mind, Donald Robertson’s book masterfully traces the links between Stoicism and CBT, showing us how Epictetus’ key insight (that it is not events that harm us but our opinion about those events) actually underpins the entire nature of modern-day therapy.

I enjoyed Robertson’s exploration of all the shared assumptions and similarities between CBT and Stoicism, but I also appreciated his clear delineation of the differences. After all, Stoicism is ultimately about valuing virtue first and foremost, and that is something that CBT wouldn’t ever touch with a barge pole. In this way, I also appreciated how Robertson’s book reminds us of what makes Stoicism different.  

I think this is probably one of the most interesting, albeit lesser-known, books about the modern Stoic revival. Modern Stoicism is a dynamic movement that comprises many different voices and potential applications of the philosophy.

I love how this varied collection of essays, under the skillful editorial eyes of Greg Sadler and Leah Goldrick, has us thinking one minute about how Stoicism and mindfulness can intertwine and the next about what a Stoic would make of Jordan Peterson, all the while never losing sight of the power of the philosophy for personal transformation.

I highly recommend this book, a comprehensive ‘snapshot’ of all the different ways Stoicism can enrich our personal and collective lives.